


After the storm

by Lady_Michiru



Category: Hey! Say! JUMP, Johnny's Entertainment
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-14
Updated: 2014-08-14
Packaged: 2018-02-13 02:52:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2134389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Michiru/pseuds/Lady_Michiru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yamada would never let Yuto fall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After the storm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [incandescence](https://archiveofourown.org/users/incandescence/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Until dawn breaks (only until dawn breaks)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2135499) by [incandescence](https://archiveofourown.org/users/incandescence/pseuds/incandescence). 



> I am a horrible, horrible, horrible person.  
> But I needed to get this out of my system.  
> Dedicated to Sheryl, because she broke my heart in less than 500 words the other day.

“Why are you here?” It’s the sixth time Yamada asks the same question since Yuto arrived. Deep night, cold and fuzzy. No call in advance, no warning, just Yuto’s arms around his shoulders and the smell of Yuto’s hair, wet from rain.

“You are my friend,” Yuto answers, for the sixth time too, barely breaking his lips apart from Yamada's skin enough to form words.

Yuto reeks of alcohol and Yamada can just feel the nicotine in Yuto’s tongue every time he captures Yamada’s mouth and kisses him deeply, desperately; the taste kicking his senses into overdrive as if he was smoking himself.

Yuto's hands dive under his T-shirt and Yamada moans. He hasn’t feel Yuto’s fingers roaming his bare skin like this since he was fourteen and then he was too young to fully appreciate it. Both of them were.

“Stop,” Yamada manages to force out, but it’s slurred, and hot, and it’s a lie.

Because this is starting to feel too good, and they aren’t fourteen anymore, and although Yamada can control his body way better these days, he doesn’t particularly want to. Not now.

“You are my friend,” Yuto whispers. It’s the seventh time this night. “Please, help me forget.”

And Yamada just sighs; closes his eyes, and sighs.

He threads his fingers through Yuto’s still wet hair. He shifts and fumbles with clothes and feelings and logistics. He moves against Yuto, drinks his moans and gasps, one by one. And when release overcomes him, he tries not to hear Yuto’s silence, drenched in a name that is not his.

“Thank you.” Yuto’s words are ghost of sounds as drowsiness, exhaustion and alcohol finally catch up and drag him down, down, past and below any point Yamada could reach him, rendering Yuto sleep and helpless in Yamada’s couch.

Yamada lifts him up in his arms, carries him princess style and lays him down on Yamada’s own bed, taking a deep sad pride at the way he didn’t let Yuto fall when he stumbled on the way here, the way he never will let Yuto fall.

 


End file.
